


like you like milkshake

by Authumnder



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, This is just pure fluff really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 07:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21490537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authumnder/pseuds/Authumnder
Summary: Brock isn’t things. And something that isn’t things means working hard doesn’t guarantee getting it in the end, and Elias knows he sounds stupid even in his head, thinking about this stuff, but the reality that he might be harboring a huge crush on his teammate’s just kind of stupid in general, so.
Relationships: Brock Boeser/Elias Pettersson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 121





	like you like milkshake

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to sit down and write something disgustingly sappy after seeing that “Nice flow, ‘lil’ big bro” post on Elias’ Instagram. My softest OTP. If you’re clicking on this then thank you so much! 
> 
> Title from Red Velvet’s Milkshake (I spent like two hours searching and couldn’t find anything more fitting so, there).

Elias thought he has everything figured out—well, at least short term, the near-future kind, not the ‘things I should accomplish in ten years’ kind, because he gets headaches when he thinks too far into the future, and he hates headaches, so.

Like, he makes good money by doing basically his hobby, plays for a team he likes, around people who support him, in a city that loves him. It’s a whole lot of good things that he still has difficulties wrapping his head around, enough that sometimes he wakes up and in disbelief that this is his life right now, his reality, that he’s fortunate enough to have this.

“You play great,” Brock’s said to him that one time Elias was too sappy and out of control to keep this to himself. “You deserve it.”

Which, maybe he does, but still.

“You don’t get it,” Elias replied, a little sulky even to his own ears. Brock just smiled and pulled him into a headlock, gave him a noogie while he was at it.

Speaking of Brock—that’s practically where his problem starts, because, like, Elias _really _thought he has his life together, knows what he wants and how to get it, he’s a rational person, things he wants are of course things that are attainable, would be if he works hard for it, and Brock is—

Brock isn’t things. And something that isn’t things means working hard doesn’t guarantee getting it in the end, and Elias knows he sounds stupid even in his head, thinking about this stuff, but the reality that he might be harboring a huge crush on his teammate’s just kind of stupid in general, so.

Brock isn’t hard to want, is the thing. Elias probably would be foaming at the mouth if he’s asked to list every good things Brock has, Brock _is_, so he wouldn’t even go there in the first place, except for hockey-related interviews, in which talking about Brock’s goodness is pretty much unavoidable, though in those, Elias has the perfect excuse to gush about Brock—about his hockey, of course, no way in hell Elias’ going to start spouting shit about his warm eyes, kind smile, how great he is as a person.

The point being, Elias doesn’t know what to do about this. His life’s apparently not as ‘together’ as he likes to think, made thoroughly clear when he’s face to face with Brock, when Brock’s close, talking to him about hockey, or anything, really, because lately Elias finds it hard to focus solely on the things Brock’s saying, distracted, head around everything that is Brock but nothing at the same time.

“Oh, fuck, this is delicious,” Brock would say, around a mouthful of omelette in a diner he’s dragged Elias into, and Elias would find himself scrambling for a response, find he has nothing, realise he’s been too busy staring at the slope of Brock’s nose.

“Fucking good play, man!” Brock would yell, a second before crashing into him, their helmets clashing hard, and Elias’d be buried in satisfaction, breathless with it, could only smile a helpless smile in reply.

“Watch a movie with me?” Brock would ask, sometimes when they’re in a hotel room on a roadie, his body a warm long line next to Elias, and an hour later Elias would catch himself inching closer, seeking the heat unconsciously, and Brock wouldn’t mind, Elias knows he wouldn’t, but Elias’d still put a stop on it.

Another thing to note here is the fact that it isn’t even an infatuation—something curt and insignificant that’ll be gone by next month—like Elias’d hoped the first time he recognised the feeling, put a name to it, because it’s been five months, and the thing in his chest and head and stomach hasn’t lessened, gets heavier as days go by, more like.

Elias doesn’t know what to do about it. Ignoring it turns out to be unfruitful, the aching staying like a frizzle under his skin, too hot to ignore, too impossible to get rid of. Forgetting it seems like a bigger idiotic step to go through, because if he can’t even brush it off, bury it deep, deep inside, how the fuck is he supposed to get over it?

The choice left after he disregards the two is not one he thinks he’d be able to pull, though.

Elias knows himself. He might be a great hockey player and people like to tell him that he’s nice, some even think he’s good looking—but people like him exist everywhere, his existence not exactly a rarity, meaning Brock can get himself one without a problem, doesn’t have to go through the ‘dating a teammate who also has dick like you’ track. Elias doesn’t even think he’s worth enough for Brock to go through all that.

He should come up with a plan soon, though, because he’s distraught all the time and that’s definitely not good. His hockey doesn’t suffer, exactly, of course Elias won’t allow that, but he _is_, all the time, thinks he might be lovesick—or likesick, because love is a big word he doesn’t want to get into, yet—and that’s worse, he doesn’t think a person should suffer 24/7, should be unhappy in their own skin, should feel an absurd twinge on their chest whenever they’re in close proximity with a particular someone else.

Asking someone isn’t an option, either. Elias knows hockey players, is friends with them, but trusting them with this is kind of... dangerous isn’t the word, but close to it, at least. Of course he can always tell them it’s a girl he’s crushing after, a stranger they don’t know, but hockey players that Elias knows also know Elias, and they’d find out within a minute of Elias’ explanation that he’s lying, that it’s not a girl at all. That it’s Brock, because who knows what kind of defensive bullshit Elias’d blurt out, what kind of holes he’d be digging into in order to get out of the first one.

He’s tired, and stressed, and so, so fed up with this in-like business that it shows, Bo sending him worried looks time to time, raising an eyebrow everytime Elias waves him off. The only good thing is that Brock is kind of clueless, acts around Elias like he usually would, isn’t awkward with him at all even though Elias definitely makes it awkward at times. It’s fucking frustrating.

At the end, he goes to Google—because of course he does. Types ‘how to forget someone’ into his search bar, gets back breakup stories that are, frankly speaking, terrifying. Changes strategy and searches ‘how to best get over someone,’ and that’s better, because there are steps, and Elias’ good at following steps.

Upon reading, he finds out that he can’t follow anything, not even the one the article deemed ‘the easiest’. Apparently the first step to getting over someone is to not meet them, and that’s bullshit, totally inapplicable to Elias considering Brock is on his team, on his line, on his _wing_. The next step is also ridiculous, ‘don’t talk to them, either directly or through text.’ Bo will totally notice something’s up if Elias suddenly doesn’t talk to Brock—Bo’s already noticing that Elias isn’t looking at Brock like he used to. Not to mention that _Brock _himself will definitely know that Elias’s kind of avoiding him, will confront him about it, and Elias would rather choke than admit to Brock that lately communicating with him outside the necessity has gotten too unhealthy for Elias’ mental health, that he suffers every second of it, distracted, always distracted, that his eyes keep wandering over Brock’s soft lips, his earnest smile, his _everything. _

He’s really, really tempted to type ‘how to get over someone if you’re a hockey player and your crush is also a hockey player on the same team,’ but like, that’s too bare, Elias can’t even bring himself to do it. It’d serve him right if someone’s tapped into his phone, the stupid Google searches posted to the internet, free for the world to see.

He digs deeper, still on the same keyword, until he finds a website full of teenage love stories, until he stumbles onto the word _closure_.

_I can’t hold it in anymore,_ the girl in the post on the super pink website writes, _so I decided to just go with it. To hell with consequences, my own sanity is the most important. _

That—Elias agrees. He really would like to have his rationale back.

_I approached him on Tuesday, after gym. He was walking to his next class, and he smiled at me when I sauntered over. I remembered thinking, _damn, that must be the thing that made me fall in love, _because fuck, does he have nice smile. _

Fuck, does _Brock _have a nice smile, Elias can’t help but immediately thinks, and then mentally slaps himself because that’s _too much cliche_, _Pettersson, get over yourself. _

_I decided the best way to confess is to just get to it, no need to beat around the bush, so I did. Said, “Hey, so I’ve liked you for a long time, and it’s getting to me, and I’m tired of hiding it, so I guess this is me, expressing my feelings for you.” _

_At that time I remembered feeling so, so relieved, like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, like the world finally has meaning again—I didn’t even care what he was going to say. I did it. I confessed, the ball’s in his court. _

_Except he didn’t smile, then, when I looked up. He looked apologising, and my heart kinda shattered into pieces, yet I still felt the relief, like, _hey, now you know. Now’s easier to move on_. The fucked up part of this story is that he told me he used to like me, that he thought I’m cute and smart, but he also thought I wasn’t interested so he moved on, just getting into a relationship with another girl from his Chem class like, YESTERDAY. FML. _

Elias doesn’t know if he should laugh or feel bad, because like—worst timing ever, right there. He also feels super proud of her, for some weird reason.

_But still. I didn’t regret confessing, it’s liberating, seriously. You should consider it if your crush on someone is getting too big and troublesome. I know this’ll sound cliche but like, even rejection is better than hanging out there not knowing, stressing over it so long your hair start to fall out. Closure, you know? _

Closure. Maybe—maybe that’s what he needs. Closure. Yes, Elias thinks he can do that. What’s the worst case scenario? Rejection, that’s it. Elias’d worry about Brock outing him, him not taking Elias’ confession well, except Elias knows Brock super well, and it’s almost impossible imagining Brock letting someone down any other way but gently.

So, there, his decision.

*

When Elias says he’s going to confess, he means he’ll do it somewhere nice, not formal, obviously, but nice. In reality, the chance presents itself after Brock exclaimed that today’s his cheat day and he’s been craving chicken nuggets and a milkshake, then managed to drag Elias into the nearest McDonalds.

His thought process goes like this: he’ll ease Brock into it, slowly, so he doesn’t get whiplash, put in some shoptalk, maybe ask about the Boesers, you name it. Except the second Brock’s stuffed his mouth full with nuggets, his cheeks protruding, Elias blurts out—

“I think I like you.”

—then promptly curses himself for having no control whatsoever.

And of course Brock reacts to that by choking on a piece of nugget.

This is Elias’ life, he’s not exactly surprised. Takes a sip of his own milkshake, instead.

“Must you say that now,” Brock glares. How he manages to look kind of intimidating in between painful coughing is beyond Elias right now. “In the middle of me eating?”

“Sorry?” Elias tries. He doesn’t, really, because it’s now out there, and he can go back to breathing normally again. His heart is beating rapidly, though, so maybe he still expects something along the line of a response. A _positive _one, at that.

He glances over at Brock, who’s looking back at him with a frown, and Elias doesn’t know how to interpret that. Brock doesn’t get angry often, so Elias’ not sure his face right now can be considered that, but like, it’s not exactly friendly, either.

Fuck. Elias’s getting rejected.

He tries to tell himself that the girl in the post also got let down, that she’s still alive after. Heart in pieces, apparently, but alive and relieved, still. Elias _does _feel relieved, ‘like a weight has been lifted from his shoulder,’ but something else is filling his chest, and he doesn’t like it at all.

“Maybe it’s just a—a tiny crush,” he says awkwardly, because Brock hasn’t said anything, could be that he’s constructing a sympathetic ‘I like you too but only as a teammate.’ Elias doesn’t know what to say if indeed Brock says that. What’d be the correct response anyway?

“Really?” Brock asks and it sounds... taunting. Like he doesn’t believe it, and neither does Elias, but this is Brock. He’s probably worried he’s broken Elias’ heart or something, so it’s Elias’ job to make sure that Brock doesn’t feel too bad about it.

Elias starts, “I mean...”

“Okay, then,” Brock cuts him, then goes back to his nuggets.

What the fuck does that mean? Is Elias’ pitiful confession getting thrown to the side just like that? Not even a _no, I don’t like you_, or a _sorry_?

“Okay, what?”

“I’ll be your boyfriend.” Brock says.

Elias’ pretty sure his jaw is on the floor right now. “You will?” he asks, dumbfounded, and also like. In total disbelief. Does Brock feel that bad about saying no to him that he’s inserting himself into a relationship he doesn’t even want? Is Brock an actual, living freaking _angel_? “What are you—”

“This was a bad move, Elias,” Brock speaks over him, as if his unclear words haven’t caused distress inside Elias. “You shouldn’t have done this in public.”

Well, yeah, Elias understands that. But the place is pretty much empty save from them and the girl behind the counter fifteen feet away from their corner table, their conversation is pretty much safe from any outsider’s ear.

“But I can’t kiss you,” Brock replies to Elias’ explanation. “So you know for sure that I like you too.”

Elias is damn sure he’s flushing, he can _feel _the flush climbing up his face. He maybe also needs to pick up his freaking jaw from the floor like, right now. Instead he stares at Brock some more, flabbergasted, stares at the blooming smile on his face, still kind, so kind, his clear eyes, even under the shitty overhead lamp of the place—

“I like you so much,” he ends up saying, and Brock’s wide grin is answer enough to that.

Later when they’ve gone back to Brock’s apartment, sitting on the couch, absentmindedly watching a Chicago game in between slow kisses—because kissing is good, but kissing _Brock _is amazing, on another level altogether—Elias finally finds the gut to ask.

“You’re not doing this just because you’d feel bad rejecting me, right?”

Brock frowns. “I’m not that nice,” he says.

Elias raises an eyebrow.

“I’m _not _that nice, Elias.” Brock rolls his eyes. “I just like you.”

Elias feels warm all over again. Still, something’s bugging him. “Then why don’t you tell me before?” he asks. Curiosity kills the cat, he knows, but he also knows that satisfaction brings it back. So.

“I thought I’d let you have the honour,” Brock replies. “You’re not exactly subtle with the staring, and then, the not-staring.”

“I’m that bad, huh,” Elias says, voice suddenly small.

Brock nudges him closer so there’s no space between them, Elias slumping, his head on Brock’s broad shoulder, their thighs touching. From this close Elias can smell Brock, feel the warmth he’s been yearning so long before, now free to enjoy.

“If it helps, I was doing it, too,” Brock says. “Bo keeps looking over at me and raising his eyebrows.”

“He does that to me, too!” Elias exclaims.

“He knows too much.” Brock mumbles, kisses the top of Elias’ head. He’s been super affectionate since they got back that Elias has no slot for doubt left. Brock very obviously has been pining too—Elias is glad he wasn’t the only passenger on that train. “Think we should tell him?”

“Maybe later? I think he’ll find out himself, somehow.”

“Uh-huh,” Brock says, then, “Kissing now?”

And of course Elias is already halfway there to meet him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you lots for reading! Kudos and comments would be super appreciated :>
> 
> [Tumblr](http://sideswiped.tumblr.com)


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